The Bed and Breakfast Star

by Jacqueline Wilson

  No-one laughed. Mum looked as if she was about to cry. She was staring up at the Royal, shaking her head.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘No, no, no.’ She started off quietly enough, but her voice got louder and louder. ‘No, no, no!’

  ‘Come on, it’s maybe not that bad,’ said Mack, putting his arm round her.

  Mum was carrying Hank. He got a bit squashed and started squawking. Pippa’s mouth went wobbly and she tried to clutch at Mum too.

  ‘I don’t like this place, Mum,’ she said. ‘We don’t have to go and live here, do we?’

  ‘No, we don’t, kids. We’re not living in a dump like this,’ said Mum. She kicked the litter in the driveway. An old Chinese take-away leaked orange liquid all over her suede shoes.

  ‘For heaven’s sake,’ Mum wept. ‘Look at all this muck. There’ll be rats. And if it’s like this outside, what’s it going to be like inside? Cockroaches. Fleas. I’m not taking my kids into a lousy dump like this.’

  ‘So where are you going to take them?’ said Mack. ‘Come on, answer me. Where?’

  Hank cried harder. Pippa sniffed and stuck her thumb in her mouth. I fiddled with my hair. Mum pressed her lips tight together, as if she was rubbing in her lipstick. Only she wasn’t wearing any make-up at all. Her face was as white as ice-cream. When I tried to take her hand, her fingers were as cold as ice too.

  She shook her head. She didn’t know how to answer Mack. She didn’t have any other place to take us.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Mack. ‘I’ve failed you, haven’t I?’ He suddenly didn’t seem so big any more. It was as if he was shrinking inside his clothes.

  ‘Oh don’t be daft,’ said Mum wearily. She joggled Hank and wiped Pippa’s nose and tried to pat my hair into place. We all wriggled and protested. ‘It’s not your fault, Mack.’

  ‘Well, whose fault is it then?’ Mack mumbled. ‘I’ve let you down. I can’t get work, I can’t even provide a proper home for you and the kids.’

  ‘It’s not your fault. It’s not anybody’s fault. It’s just . . . circumstances,’ said Mum.

  I saw a horrible snooty old gent, Sir Come-Stances, pointing his fat finger in our direction, while all his servants snatched our house and our furniture and our television and our toys. I was so busy thinking about him that I hardly noticed Mum marching off into the entrance of the Royal, Hank on one hip, Pippa hanging on her arm. Mack shuffled after her, carrying all our stuff. He turned round when he got to the revolving door.

  ‘Elsa!’ he called irritably. ‘Don’t just stand there looking gormless. Come on!’

  ‘What’s a gorm, Mack? And how come I’ve lost mine?’

  ‘Elsa! Are you asking for a good smacking?’

  I decided it was time to scuttle after him. I squashed into the doorway and pushed hard. It bumped against Mack’s leg and he yelled and stumbled out the other side, cursing. I stayed revolving round the door by myself. I felt as if I wanted to go on spinning and spinning. Maybe if I twirled really fast like a top then there would be this humming sound and everything would blur and I’d shoot out into somewhere else entirely, a warm bright world where everyone liked me and laughed at my jokes.

  I stepped into the grubby foyer of the Royal Hotel instead. There was a dark carpet on the floor, red with lots of stains. The thick wallpaper was red too, with a crusty pattern like dried blood. The ceiling was studded with pale polystyrene tiles but several were missing. I wondered if anyone went away wearing one as a hat without noticing.

  There was a big counter with a bell. We could see through a glass door behind the counter into an office. A woman was sitting in there, scoffing sweets out of a paper-bag and reading a big fat book. She didn’t seem to notice us, even though Hank was crying and Mack was creating a commotion hauling all our cases and plastic bags around the revolving doors and into the hallway.

  Mum touched the bell on the counter. It gave a brisk trill. The woman popped another pear-drop in her mouth and turned a page of her Jackie Collins. Mum cleared her throat loudly and pinged on the bell. I had a go too. And Pippa. The woman turned her back on us with one swivel of her chair.

  ‘Oi! You in there!’ Mack bellowed, thumping his big fist on the counter.

  The woman put down her book with a sigh, marking her place with a sweet wrapper. She stretched out her arm and opened the glass door a fraction.

  ‘There’s no need to take that tone. Manners don’t cost a penny,’ she said in a pained voice.

  ‘Well, we did ring the bell,’ said Mum. ‘You must have heard it.’

  ‘Yes, but it’s nothing to do with me. I’m only switchboard. That bell’s for management.’

  ‘But there doesn’t seem to be any management,’ said Mum. ‘This is ridiculous.’

  ‘If you want to make a complaint you must put it in writing and give it to the Manager.’

  ‘Where is this Manager then?’ asked Mack.

  ‘I’ve no idea. I told you, it’s nothing to do with me. I’m only switchboard.’ She closed her glass door and stuck her nose back in her book.

  ‘I don’t believe this,’ said Mum. ‘It’s a total nightmare.’

  I shut my eyes tight, hoping like mad that it really was a nightmare. I badly wanted to be back in bouncy bed number six in the lovely new house. I put my hands over my ears to blot out Hank’s bawling and tried hard to dream myself back into that bed. I felt I was very nearly there . . . but then Mack’s big hand shook my shoulder.

  ‘What are you playing at, Elsa? Stop screwing up your face like that, you look like you’re having a fit or something,’ said Mack.

  I glared and shook my shoulder free. I shuffled away from him, scuffing my trainers on the worn carpet. I saw a door at the end of the hallway. It had a nameplate.

  I pushed the door open and peeped round. There was a little man in a brown suit sitting at a desk. A big lady in a fluffy pink jumper was sitting at the desk too. She was perched on the man’s lap and they were kissing. When they saw me the lady leapt up, going pink in the face to match her jumper. The little man seemed to be catching his breath. No wonder. The lady was very big, especially in certain places.

  ‘Excuse me,’ I said politely. After all, I’d just been told that manners don’t cost a penny.

  ‘Come on now, out of here,’ said the big lady, shooing at me as if I was a stray cat. ‘And don’t hang around the reception area either. I’m sick and tired of you kids turning this hotel into a play-park. You go up to your room, do you hear me?’

  ‘That’s right. Go to your room, little girly,’ said the man in the brown suit, trying to brush all the bitty pink hairs away.

  ‘But I haven’t got a room,’ I said. ‘We’ve only just come here and we don’t know where to go.’

  ‘Well, why didn’t you say?’ said the fluffy pink lady, and she flounced out of the room, beckoning me with one of her long pink fingernails.

  Hank was still howling out in the hall. Pippa was whispering and Mum was muttering and Mack was pacing the carpet like a caged animal, looking as if he was ready to bite someone.

  ‘So sorry to have kept you waiting,’ said the big lady, and she nipped round the corner of the counter and smiled a big pink lipsticky smile. ‘On behalf of the management, I’d like to welcome you to the Royal Hotel. I hope your stay with us will be a pleasant one.’

  ‘Well, we’re hardly here on holiday,’ said Mum, wrestling with Hank. She sat him down on the counter to give her arms a rest. Hank perked up a little. He spotted what looked like a very very big pink bunny rabbit and started crawling rapidly towards it, drooling joyfully.

  ‘Please try to keep your children under control!’ said the big lady, swatting nervously at the advancing baby. ‘I’ll have to process all your particulars.’

  This took for ever. Hank howled mournfully, deprived of his cuddle with the giant pink bunny. Mum sighed. Mack tutted and strutted, working himself up into a temper. Pippa started hopping about and holding herself. There was going to be a puddle on the c
arpet if we didn’t watch out.

  ‘Mum, Pippa’s needing the toilet,’ I hissed.

  ‘Shut up, Elsa,’ said Pippa, squirming.

  Mum cast an experienced eye at Pippa.

  ‘You’d better take her, Elsa,’ she said.

  The big lady paused whilst sorting through our particulars and pointed the way down the hall and round the corner. I took Pippa’s arm and hurried her along. We passed the Manager’s office. His door was ajar. Like my joke.

  We had a quick peek at him. He was still sitting at his desk. He’d kicked his shoes off and put his feet up. One of his socks had a hole. His toe stuck through and looked so silly that Pippa and I got the giggles. The Manager heard and looked cross and we scooted quickly down the corridor. We had to dash, anyway, because it was getting a bit dodgy for Pippa to be laughing in her current circumstances.

  Things got dodgier still because we seemed to take a wrong turning and blundered around unable to find the toilets. We came across a gang of boys as we rounded a corner. They were busy writing something on the wall with black felt-tip pen.

  ‘Don’t ask them, they’ll laugh at us,’ said Pippa urgently.

  They laughed at us anyway, making rude comments about us as we rushed past. You know the sort of things boys shout out.

  ‘They are rude,’ said Pippa.

  They were ruder than Pippa realized. She can’t read yet. I read what they were writing on the wall.

  We hurried on, turned another corner, and suddenly I saw one of those funny little lady outlines stuck up on the door.

  I don’t know why they design the lady in that weird sticky-out frock. And she hasn’t got any arms, poor thing, so she’d have a job using the loo herself, especially when it came to pulling the chain.

  I was still busy contemplating this little lady while Pippa charged inside. I heard the door bang shut.

  ‘Did you make it in time, Pippa?’ I called.

  ‘Shut up,’ Pippa called back.

  It sounded as if her teeth were gritted. I stepped inside to find out why. There was someone else in the Ladies. A girl about my own age was sitting on the windowsill with her feet propped on the edge of the washbasin. She was reading a book. Well, she had her eyes on the page, but you could tell we were disturbing her a bit.

  ‘Hello,’ I said.

  She nodded at me, looking a bit nervous.

  ‘I’m Elsa. And that’s my sister Pippa sitting in the toilet.’

  ‘Don’t keep telling everyone!’ Pippa shouted from inside.

  ‘Sisters!’ I said, raising my eyebrows.

  ‘Brothers are worse,’ said the girl. ‘I’ve got three.’

  ‘I’ve got one too. He’s only a baby but he’s still awful. I have to look after him sometimes.’

  ‘I have to look after my brothers all of the time. Only I get fed up because they keep pestering me. So sometimes I slip in here for a bit of peace.’

  ‘Good idea. So what’s your name, then?’

  ‘Naomi.’

  ‘Hi, Naomi. I’m Elsa.’

  ‘Yes, you said.’

  ‘How long have you been here then?’

  ‘Sitting in the basin?’

  ‘No! In this place. The hotel.’

  ‘About six months.’

  ‘You haven’t! Gosh.’

  I was too busy thinking to carry on chatting. I’d thought we’d stay in the hotel a week or two at the most. As if we really were on holiday. I hadn’t realized we might be stuck here for months and months.

  Pippa pulled the chain and came out of the toilet. Naomi swung her skinny legs out of the way so that Pippa could wash her hands. There weren’t any towels so I let Pippa wipe her hands on my T-shirt. Naomi settled her feet back again.

  I looked at her. I looked at the tap.

  ‘I could give your feet a little paddle,’ I said.

  ‘Don’t,’ said Naomi.

  I thought about it.

  ‘No, OK.’

  I smiled at her. She smiled back. Things were looking up. I’d only just got here and yet I’d already made a friend.

  I took Pippa’s damp hand and we set off back down the corridor.

  ‘I like that girl,’ said Pippa.

  ‘That’s my friend. Naomi.’

  ‘She can be my friend too. I like her hair. All the little plaits. Will you do my hair like that, Elsa?’

  ‘It looks a bit too fiddly. Come on, quick.’ We were going past the boys again. They said some more rude things. Really awful things.

  ‘You think you’re so clever, but you can’t even spell,’ I said, snatching the felt-tip. I crossed out the worst word and wrote it correctly.

  That showed them. Pippa and I skipped on down the corridor and eventually found our way back to the foyer.

  ‘There you are! I was beginning to think you’d got lost,’ said Mum.

  The big lady was handing over a key to Mack.

  ‘One room for all five of us?’ said Mack.

  ‘It’s a family room, with full facilities.’

  Mack stared at the number tag.

  ‘Room six-oh-eight?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean we’re up on the sixth floor, does it?’

  ‘You got it.’

  ‘But we’ve got little kids. You can’t shove us right up at the top, it’s stupid.’

  ‘It’s the only room available at the moment. Sorry,’ said the big lady, fluffing up her jumper.

  ‘There is a lift?’ said Mum.

  ‘Oh yes, there’s a lift,’ said the big lady. ‘Only the kids have been messing around and it’s not working at the moment. We’re getting it fixed tomorrow. Meanwhile, the stairs are over there.’

  It took us a long while and several journeys to get us and all our stuff up those stairs.

  But at long last we were all crowded into room 608. Our new home.

  I thought a family room would have room for a family. Something like this:

  Only room 608 wasn’t quite how I’d imagined. It was a bit cramped to say the least. And by the time we’d squeezed inside with all our stuff, we couldn’t even breathe without bumping into each other.

  ‘Home sweet home,’ said Mum, and she burst into tears.

  ‘Don’t start on the waterworks,’ said Mack. ‘Come on, hen, it’s not as bad as all that.’

  ‘It’s worse,’ said Mum, trying to swallow her sobs. It sounded as if she was clucking. Like a hen. Mack calls her that when he’s trying to be nice. And he sometimes calls Pippa ‘Ma Wee Chook’, which is probably Scottish for chick. Hank is too big and barging about to be a chick. He’s more like a turkey. I don’t get called anything. I am not part of Mack’s personal farmyard.

  I stepped over all our stuff and climbed across a bed or two and made it to the window. It was probably a good thing it had bars, especially with Hank starting to pull himself up. He’d be able to climb soon and he’s got so little sense he’d make for the window first thing. But I didn’t like the bars all the same. It felt as if we were all in a cage.

  It wasn’t just us and our family. We could hear the people in room 607 having an argument. And the people in room 609 had their television on so loudly it made our room buzz with the conversation. The people underneath us in room 508 were playing heavy-metal music and the floor bumped up and down with the beat. At least the sixth floor was the top floor, so there was no-one up above us making a racket.

  ‘It’s bedlam,’ said Mum.

  Bedlam is some old prison place where they put mad people, but it made me think of beds. I flopped down on to one of the single beds. It gave a creak and a groan. I didn’t bounce a bit on this bed. I just juddered to a halt. Bed number seven was a disappointment.

  I tried the other single bed, just in case that was better. It was worse. The mattress sagged right down through the bedsprings. I set them all jangling as I jumped on.

  ‘Elsa! Will you quit that!’ Mack yelled.

  ‘I was just trying out my bed, that�
�s all. Sussing out where we’re all going to sleep.’ I decided to crack a bed joke to cheer us all up. ‘Hey, where do baby apes sleep?’

  ‘Give it a rest, Elsa, eh?’ Mum sniffed.

  ‘No, listen, it’s good this one, really. Where do baby apes sleep? Can’t you guess? Baby apes sleep in apricots.’ I waited. They didn’t even titter. ‘Apricots,’ I said clearly, in case they hadn’t got it first time round.

  ‘Sh! Keep your voice down. Everyone can hear what you’re saying,’ said Mum.

  ‘Then why isn’t everybody laughing?’ I said. ‘Look, don’t you get it? Baby apes . . .’

  “That’s enough!’ Mack thundered. ‘Button that lip.’

  Honestly!

  Then I had to unbutton, because I’d just thought of something.

  ‘What about Hank? There isn’t a bed for him,’ I said.

  We all looked round the room, as if a bed might suddenly appear out of nowhere.

  ‘This will be Hank’s little bedroom in here,’ said Pippa, opening a cupboard door that stuck right out into the room, taking up even more of the space. It wasn’t another bedroom. It was the shower and the loo and the washbasin, all cramped in together.

  ‘We’re going to be able to save time, you know. I reckon you could sit on the loo and clean your teeth and stick your feet in the shower all at the same time,’ I said. ‘Let’s have a try, eh?’

  ‘Look, come out of there, Elsa, and stop mucking about,’ said Mum. ‘This is ridiculous. Where is Hank going to sleep?’

  ‘I’ll go downstairs and tell them we’re needing another bed,’ said Mack.

  ‘Yes, but where are we going to put it?’ said Mum. ‘There’s no room to move as it is.’

  ‘Maybe we’ll have to take it in turns to move,’ I said. ‘You and Mack could stand in the shower while Pippa and Hank and I play for a bit, and then you could yell “All change” and we’ll cram into the shower and you two could walk round and round the beds for a bit of exercise.’

  I thought it an extremely sensible idea but they didn’t think so.